The trunk, which he had placed under his berth, I pulled out into the floor. With trembling hand and eager heart I opened it. The package of letters had been thrust down between the clothing and one end, evidently in great haste, for I had probably disturbed him when I came to the door. After assuring myself I had all that belonged to me, I closed the trunk,—for I had no desire to explore it any further,—and restored it to its place under the berth. The drunken agent of Tom Thornton still snored unconscious of my proceedings.
I took the precaution to place the Bunyard letter in my money-belt; the others, being of minor importance, I put in my valise again. I looked at the miserable being who lay groaning and uneasy in the stupor of intoxication. The state-room was not fit for the occupancy of a decent person. The fumes of the whiskey were sickening to me, and I could no longer stay there. Taking my valise in my hand, I left it, resolved not to be the room-mate of such a filthy swine.
I deposited my valise in a corner in the passageway, and went into the saloon. Mr. Solomons was there, and expressed his surprise at seeing me. I freely told him what had transpired in the state-room.
"And you recovered your papers—did you?" said he.
"I did; I was satisfied the fellow had been sent by Tom Thornton, to prevent me from finding my mother."
"No doubt of it, my lad. You must keep away from him now."
"That I shall certainly do, for I would rather sleep in a hog-pen than in such a place as that state-room."
"You shall not sleep there," replied my friend, decidedly; "come with me."
I followed him below, and he conducted me to his own room, and told me to occupy his berth.
"But what will you do?" I asked.